Zakum Unbound
by LazerTH
Summary: The rise and fall of the man called Zakum.
1. Zakum the man

Zakum Unbound

The origins and fate of Zakum

"Tell me about Zakum, Grendel. How long has he been around?"

"I knew him when he was a man."

That revelation startled the cleric out of his musings entirely.

"I knew you were really old, Grendel, but seriously…"

The wise man of Ellinia stroked his long, pointed white beard, floating in the midst of his magic library, an archaic runic circle surrounding him in midair at all times. He gestured to a shelf, and a thick red book flew out in a flurry of dust to his hand. Blowing the patina of age off the worn cover, he made another gesture and the book flipped open, its yellowed pages turned to the cleric.

"He was the most promising of our students."

That second statement further disturbed the cleric as he gazed upon the dark brown face of a giant of a man. The hard set of his jaw, the odd shape of a nose broken many times and the thick black eyebrows drawn together over eyes of fire drew a forbidding picture. He wore a stone helmet – the very same Zakum Helm most high-level adventurers wore – and stone armour that bore the dreaded runes of the Zakum everyone knew.

"No adventurer today has more than one master! Who were his teachers?"

"Myself, and the ancestor of Dances with Balrogs: Dances with Drakes."

"There were drakes and balrogs back then?"

"And worse. Now where was I? Oh yes. Zakum began life as a warrior. He favoured the two-handed axe, and followed the dark path of the Crusader. In time, he ascended to Hero status, slaying every evil known to the islands of Ossyria and Victoria."

The book showed the stone-clad warrior beheading a Balrog with one swing of his dread axe.

"He was _our _hero – the four wise men at the time took great pride in his feats. Every warrior aspired to be like him, but he was arrogant, and shunned all praise, evading the company of the wise men and never seeking their counsel. He was not content! So he sought me out. I was still meddling in dark magic at the time…"

"I know," the cleric replied sourly, "I gathered 2000 or more cursed dolls because of that!"

"Hey, you got the nifty hat, right?"

"Yes, but I prefer the white one, so I sold it."

Grendel did a double-take.

"After slaying tens of thousands of zombie monkeys, you _sold _it?"

"Hey, I made a profit. Tell me more about when you met Zakum."

"He came to me, after mastering the way of the Hero. He demanded that I teach him the ways of magic. I asked him which path he desired, and he simply said, _all of them. _So I did. He was insatiable. After setting the hills ablaze and poisoning the oceans, he learned how to freeze volcanoes and cause thunderstorms. Finally he delved into the mysteries of holy magic, and it was there he stumbled."

"A demigod in his own right stumbled?"

"His heart was dark, young cleric. Divinity cares not for evil men. He could learn no more. He had mastered it all until that point. I should have known what would happen next."

"He started destroying the world, didn't he?"

"He killed all the wise men except me, because he thought I could teach him the ways of holy magic that he failed in. I tried to explain that the Light would not enter Darkness, but he did not believe me. I was his slave. He sealed me in this library, and that is why to this day I cannot leave here."

The cleric's jaw dropped open in awe.

"Hundreds of years inside here…"

Grendel's eyes went dim.

"Thousands. That is also why I cannot die. This seal makes me immortal, undying, so I can neither kill myself nor can anyone kill me. He demanded that I find a way for him to learn holy magic. Whenever my attempts failed he would… he would kill children in front of me."

The cleric felt the disbelief and then revulsion at knowing it was true. Grendel's eyes did not lie.

"My God! What a blackheart!"

"Incentive, he called it. The entire world was under his axe. Hundreds of adventurers of every class and creed united against him but he slew them all. He created demons that still haunt the world. He resurrected ancient evils such as the Balrog, and made them undying so that no matter how many times they are slain, they rise again."

"But how is it Zakum became that monster of stone with eight arms?"

"Ah, that is the next part of my story. After he had killed the strongest leaders and warriors in every nation, after the world knew darkness for a hundred years, he finally created an item that would unlock the mysteries of holy magic: the Eye of Fire."

"What, you mean that fiery sphere which summons the Zakum we know at his altar?"

"No. The true Eye of Fire was made from one of his own eyes; he plucked it from its socket and imbued it with every power and every magic he had ever learnt."

"He _gouged out his own eye?" _the cleric almost retched.

"Yes. Imagine if he had used his heart! The eye's staggering amount of power _broke the seal against darkness. _Holy magic, once forbidden him, flowed into his being, and Zakum was truly a god, able to slay anything and heal any wounds to his person. That is why to this day, the vilest of people may become clerics."

Here Grendel paused.

"And then?" the cleric urged.

"And then… the Wingless found him."

The book turned a page. The first thing the cleric saw was a harlequin mask, grinning, and the eyeholes misty with otherworldly light. It was attached to a body swathed in an ebony robe whose folds glittered with stars.

"What is that?"

"Call it what you will. An angel without wings. A demon. A god. A devil. A harlequin. It doesn't matter. It is these things, and more."

"What did Zakum do?"

The book turned a page. There was Zakum, god of all he surveyed, bent under the heel of the Wingless. A bright blue marking, four lines crossing another four lines in an X shape, emblazoned the Eye of Fire which the dark god held in one hand. Another shining blue mark, two triangles connected to each other at their apex, forming a skewed hourglass shape, marked Zakum's forehead. His great axe lay in pieces on the ground.

"The Wingless drew the Surge rune on the Eye of Fire, shattering that most powerful of relics into thousands of smaller pieces that everyone calls the 'Eye of Fire'. That is why Zakum is summoned every time an 'Eye of Fire' is dropped at his altar… he is trying to collect the fragments which were scattered to the wind. But, he is ever tormented in his prison of stone and flame. He will never gather all the pieces, because there are too many to count."

"What about that other rune on his head?"

In response, the image in the book came to life. Flames roared in the background as the Wingless spoke to Zakum.

"Life shouldn't be wasted, so I'm sealing you for an indefinite amount of time."

"I am a god!" Zakum roared, but was unable to move an inch under the Wingless' heel, "I have laid this world under my feet!"

"Why?" the Wingless asked.

"Because they didn't listen to me, and now I'm known and feared!"

"By a handful of survivors."

The Wingless pushed Zakum's head into the ground, cracking the great stone helmet.

"Just disappear."

To Zakum's screams, he did, melting into the ground with his Eye of Fire. The Wingless stood back, his robe flapping in the thermal winds of the volcanic cavern. From where the Eye of Fire had been planted, there sprouted what is known today as the Zakum Tree, chains hanging from its lifeless black branches, the area marker for Zakum's altar to this day. Tiny sparks of flame grew from its branches and then scattered to the wind – seeds of the Zakum Tree, each known as the 'Eye of Fire' in memory of that evil relic. Once that cursed tree had grown, the Wingless spoke again.

"You are undying, Zakum, but your power now has limits. This world's heroes will seek after you, and break you again and again. As you have made the world suffer, you shall suffer for always."

The image froze in place. The cleric was speechless, so Grendel continued.

"The Wingless was not finished. He hunted the creatures Zakum had made undying."

A page turned. Pianus, the giant Doom Flounder, was swimming merrily through the oceans. The big fish hopped out of the ocean long enough to crush a boat under his girth and eat the sailors.

"But Pianus has a big scar on his forehead, and can't swim an inch!" the cleric said. The image on the page came to life again. The Wingless, gliding through the water as effortlessly as his prey, kicked Pianus square in the forehead with the same heel that laid Zakum low. A great crack resounded through the oceans of Aqua Road.

"He broke his skull!" the cleric interjected, "Yet Pianus didn't die! What monstrous strength!"

Stunned but not dead, Pianus drifted to the seabed, a terrible X-shaped scar bleeding across his entire forehead.

"You're dangerous, but useful," the Wingless declared, "So I'm taking away your ability to swim. Without anywhere to go, your mind will develop into something more worthy."

"So that's why the scar on his head always glows, and he has those massive telekinetic attacks," the cleric murmured. The page turned, and the Wingless was standing before the tiny ghost known as Papulatus. All around them were the bodies of hapless adventurers, killed by the terrible magic of the selfsame ghost.

"Why are you destroying this place?"

"Because all this belongs to me, so nobody can set foot here!" the ghost yelled. A little Tick-Tock, a poor wormlike creature burdened by its big clock body, waddled past them. The Wingless looked at the Tick-Tock, looked at Papulatus, and the harlequin mask grinned wider.

"It belongs to you, so you should be a part of it."

The Wingless lifted a slender gloved hand, and drew a circular spiral in midair, the blue lines forming a whirlpool that never seemed to end.

"Phase."

Papulatus let loose a horrified screech as he was drawn closer to the Tick-Tock, which squeaked with terror. They met in the midst of the spiral rune, and changed.

"You're stuck with it, so you can't ever leave this place. Not that you wanted to, anyway."

The clock from the Tick-Tock became grossly larger, morphing into the giant Papulatus Clock which guards its tower today. The Tick-Tock's face stretched and skewed, forming the giant clock face. The tiny ghost was seated atop it.

"Now you are useless without your clock, so you can keep time until I return."

The image became just a picture again. The cleric let loose a pent up breath.

"So what does all of this mean?"

"It means," Grendel said, "That it is possible for Zakum to return."

"What?"

"You know the Holy Stone of El Nath, which judges an adventurer's wisdom in order to advance to the third tier?"

"Yes?"

"What does that fat stone demand?"

"An artifact of concentrated black magic: a Dark Crystal."

"Yes. But who made that stone?"

"…wait a minute. Zakum?"

"Yes. It's like a container for his soul. It feeds on the dark and evil energy of this world. Everyone thinks it's a relic that _destroys _evil with its wisdom, but the truth is, Zakum made it that way – while he was still a man – so that he could absorb whatever power remained out of his grasp."

"You must warn the other wise men! Tell them to stop sending adventurers there! They're _feeding Zakum!"_

"Yes, they are, but you can't deny power from those who have toiled for months and sometimes years to achieve the third tier."

"How devious is his dark heart!" the cleric despaired, "Is there no hope?"

"Why, yes. The Wingless will return, as ever, and stop him again."

"But the last time he was allowed a hundred years' reign!"

"Indeed. But it is all according to _his_ will, not ours."

"I refuse to believe this. There must be another way!"

Grendel offered a sad, weary smile.

"I have seen nations rise and fall. I have pondered these thoughts every day of my endless life. All that remains is enduring our fate."

"What will comfort us?"  
"I will leave you with this poem, cleric."

Grendel cleared his throat and a light seemed to shine from those eyes that had seen so much.

"So it came to be, that once that cursed winter passed so long ago, the seeker appeared.

Wrapped in the starry night and the sky above, he came upon the self-proclaimed master of all. A question did he ask, but the answer was not what he wanted, and punishment did he weigh upon the fallen one, for sins both past, present, and future."


	2. Zakum the conqueror

The months passed, and the cleric was ready to become a priest. With bitterness he approached the Holy Stone hidden deep within the snowy fields of El Nath. In his hands was a Dark Crystal, the result of slaying hundreds of thousands of monsters.

"Alright, you fat stone. Here's your offering."

He dropped the Dark Crystal at the base of the black, crystalline monolith. The Dark Crystal melted into the ground.

"Now let's have those five questions."

The Holy Stone was silent.

"Uh… hello?"

_CRACK._

"That's not a good sound."

The would-be priest stood well back as a hairline fracture ran from the base of the Holy Stone to its top. Then another fracture appeared, followed by several more. In the end, the whole structure crumbled into the snow. The cleric was silent for a few moments, and then screamed at the top of his lungs.

"_Perfect!_ I'm the one who awoke _Zakum!"_

888

At the heart of El Nath's volcano, at Zakum's Altar, a band of twenty four adventurers were laying the smackdown on Zakum's giant stone body. All eight of his arms had long since shattered and the twenty four heroes were laying waste to his remaining body with attacks that literally shook the earth.

"Look! He's cracking!"

They all jumped back – some teleporting just to be sure – and cheered. Another successful run was complete.

But fire burst from cracks in the stone.

"What? What the hell is happening?"

The fire roared higher and higher until all the heroes were pressed against the cavern walls to escape the flames. Behind the altar where Zakum sat exploding, the Zakum Tree caught fire, and so intense were the flames that its chains melted. Stone finally burst, and out of it stepped a being of living flame. He was taller and bigger than the stone statue he had just broken out of, fire licking around his giant limbs flexing after long disuse.

"**I… AM… _FREE!"_ **he exulted, causing the cavern walls to shake as he lifted his titanic axe in triumph.

"Who is _that?_ We've killed him hundreds of times before, and this _never _happened!"

"**HAH! It has been TOO LONG since my axe tasted blood!"**

Without much ado, he hacked the adventurers apart. They were among the mightiest heroes to walk the planet, but one swing of his axe and all their health and magic vanished completely, augmenting his own power as their broken bodies died.

"Who are you?" the last one screamed, covered in the gore of his friends.

"**_I AM… ZAKUM! I AM _GOD_ OF THIS WORLD!" _**Zakum thundered, flames blazing from his one eye. He swung his axe again.

888

The cleric stamped all the way back to El Nath.

"What troubles you, young hopeful?" Alcaster enquired, surprised that the wannabe priest had not returned with the Necklace of Wisdom that the Holy Stone supplied to the wise.

"I'm not in a good mood."

"Failed the quiz?"

"No, I just ended the world."

"Just like that?" Alcaster wondered, stroking his bushy white eyebrows with his staff, "And how shall it end?"

888

During this time, a new volcano was emerging from the snowy fields of El Nath. Adventurers scuttled away in terror as magma flowed freely over snow, vaporizing the penguins and yeti at play.

"**The surface!" **the volcano spoke, **"It has been… five thousand years…"**

Zakum looked to the night sky. He had studied astronomy with the wise men, in an age long past, before seeking the path of the warrior. He learnt that you could tell the passage of time by the movement of the sun and moon, but the passing of the _centuries _could be told by the position of the constellations. One look at the familiar shapes in the sky, one reminder of the memories he had held in his lonely prison of stone and flame, and he knew just how long he had been gone.

"**The stars, at least, have not changed."**

With trepidation he made his first tentative steps on the earth, which melted under his feet. An adventurer, no more than eighty levels in rank, was still watching with jaw agape. Zakum turned to her.

"**Hey, you. Have you seen a tall albino guy? Purple eyes? Wears a mask?"**

She, jaw still hanging, shook her head.

"**EXCELLENT!"**

Zakum tramped along and eventually climbed up the snowy cliff on his way to El Nath. Beside the dumbstruck, stupefied adventurer the snow heaved upward and crumbled. A skeleton with tattered skin still hanging off aged bones stood up, yawned, and walked off in the direction Zakum was heading. The adventurer, thinking she had seen enough to last three lifetimes, logged off for the day.

888

The cleric turned around and looked at the dark horizon that had recently acquired a red glow.

"It will end by fire. At least we won't be cold."

Alcaster hurried off to find the wise men and women of El Nath. The cleric sat down on a bench and waited for the end. A hot wind blew from the snow fields, evaporating the ice off the houses and streets. Zakum strode into town, and the wooden buildings caught fire as he progressed down the street. Everyone was running, except the cleric, who sat there, his face blank. When Zakum approached him, the cleric looked into the blazing fire of Zakum's eye without blinking.

"**I should thank you," **Zakum laughed, and continued onward. The cleric got up, dusted ashes off his robes, and followed the flame-demon to see what would happen. A few minutes later, the skeleton with tattered skin walked into town, looking around.

"Didn't I seal him last winter?"

Shrugging, the skeleton followed the still-burning footsteps. Noises other than roaring flames could be heard. The twang of a bowstring. The hacking of a sword. The whisk of throwing stars. The rushing wind of ice spells. The cleric watched as the four wise men – including the magician and hunter; both women – bombarded Zakum with their most powerful attacks. They succeeded destroying the landscape, but Zakum was indifferent.

"**I should thank you, most of all," **he rumbled as he swatted the master warrior Tylus off his arm, **"You four had all those travelers feed me enough Dark Crystals to revive my true form."**

"Return to the shadows, monster!" the master thief Arec shouted, throwing the massive shuriken Avenger towards Zakum. The two-handed axe cut Avenger in half and hit the ground, the resulting earthquake knocking all of them off their feet except the master magician Robeira, who still floated. For her, Zakum spat a fireball that blasted her through the weapon/armour store and out the other side in pieces. He lifted his dread axe and swung it like a golf club, batting Tylus with the flat of the blade. Later, it was discovered that Zakum had hit him clear over Orbis Tower and into the cloud city itself, although Tylus certainly did not survive the flight.

Arec and Rene coordinated their ranged attacks, sending arrows and throwing stars of deadly power and accuracy at the burning monstrosity. They proved the most difficult; as Arec's Haste increased their already formidable speed and reflexes, avoiding the great sweeping blows and fireballs that had killed their allies.

"**Insects," **Zakum taunted, **"It required no less than twenty warriors _more powerful than you _to defeat my prison of stone. You may be mighty among mortals, but against a god, against _ZAKUM, _you are nothing!"**

Zakum stamped the ground, and everywhere flames erupted, encircling the master thief and huntress in a towering wall of fire. Their robes caught aflame, and when the inferno died down, not even ashes were left.

The cleric felt the last vestige of hope blink out of his soul as Zakum slung the terrible axe over his shoulder and casually walked towards Orbis Tower. The tattered skeleton caught up at that point, surveying the burnt-out husks of buildings that had been a thriving community.

"Hey, did you see a guy, big axe, whole body on fire?"

The cleric turned and almost jumped out of his skin when he saw who had asked.

"You're a zombie! Except more decomposed! But zombies don't talk!"

"Huh?"

The skeleton looked down, seeing his rather deceased appearance for the first time.

"Oh."

The skeleton stood still, and pale white flesh seeped from the bones. Instead of skin, a white mask grew over the skull, its fixed idiotic grin causing old memories to surface. From the mask, robes the colour of deep space flowed, clothing the wraithlike body. Stars glittered within its obsidian folds.

"You're… you can't be. The Harlequin from the book?"

The Harlequin opened purple eyes.

"That I am."

"But you're a fairytale!"

"So is the guy who just wrecked your town."

"Have you come back to help us?"

"No, I'm just mad he woke me up."

The Harlequin felt hope spark anew in the cleric's soul, causing the mask to grin a bit more as he commented, "At least I have an audience this time."

He moved along the ground. Not walk. He glided smoothly, without any of the jerky movements that the cleric had to make while following.


	3. The Wingless

By this time, someone had found a Super Megaphone and had announced to the entire world that "OMFG ZAKUM JUST WALKED THROUGH EL NATH" Most travelers thought it was bunk, and whispered that the announcer just wanted attention, but the bored ones hanging around Orbis used their teleport rock scrolls.

Greeting them at the base of Orbis Tower was fiery death. The survivors called their friends or used Super Megaphones of their own, and soon nearly everyone was either taking the airship to Orbis or teleporting down the tower to get burned alive/watch in stupefaction as the now-burning and _mobile _Zakum spent some time setting fire to his audience.

"Are the GMs doing this?" one random traveler remarked to another.

"No, those are the GMs over there, and they're just as stumped as we are."

GMs, of course, are the law enforcers of the world of Maple, but this evidently was not one of their pranks or a planned event. This made summoning the Crimson Balrog in the Free Market look like plain old newbie-killing at Lith Harbour. Travelers who had spent years training in the third tier of job advancement were dropping like green snails as Zakum swept his axe through their ranks.

"This is stupid. I'm logging off," declared a hermit – one of the master assassins of Maple – just before Zakum's axe reached him.

And where was the cleric responsible for all this? He was still following the Harlequin, who continued silent slithering along the charred remains of the snowfield.

"So much ice, gone to waste," the mask muttered, "I put it there to look pretty, not to get burnt."

"_You _made the snow fall in El Nath?"

"Well, yeah. _Somebody _had to make all this. What, you think _evolution_ made penguins wear jewelry and ride yeti like cowboys?"

"Point taken. But this begs the question… why create, and then disappear?"

"I'm tired."

Zakum paused his rampage long enough to look over his shoulder.

"_**YOU!"**_

The Harlequin waved with one slender white gloved hand.

"Hi."

Zakum plunged his axe into the side of the tower, shaking snow off its entire height, and began to climb. The white mask tilted to one side.

"That's odd."

The sea of travelers parted for the man in the white mask and his follower.

"Last time he charged me with that big axe, screaming his head off."

"He's afraid of you?"

"I am his nightmares."

"Where did you _come _from, anyway?" the cleric asked as they went up the tower that constantly shook from Zakum's rock-climbing.

"Spontaneous combustion."

"Really?"

"No. I have a mother."

"Where is _she?"_

"Know how Zakum has his tree of chains?"

"Yeah?"

"My mother inspired that."

"Okay, I don't want to know anymore."

The cleric became mesmerized by the total silence with which the Harlequin moved. His rippling robes made no sound; neither did his footsteps. Only his voice, which resounded more in the head than through the air, was heard. Not just stealth, but grace was in his motions. He slithered up ropes as if they were pulling him upward. His shining white dress shoes tied with black lace barely touched the platforms at all, and though his movements belied a sylphlike swiftness, he slowly floated through the air as a bird might, allowing the cleric to keep pace.

The fallen-angel statue at the top had its demonic wing broken off, the burning rubble signaling Zakum's arrival in Orbis.

"Will he also set the skies afire?" the cleric wondered.

"No, I happen to like clouds," the Harlequin reassured, and flew into town. Understanding the need for urgency, the cleric equipped his Bone Helm, Icarus Cape, Red Whip and snowshoes modified for speed to keep up. Besides, against that demon, his battle equipment was no better than straw. Zooming after the Harlequin, the cleric persisted his questioning.

"You are going to seal him again?"

"Maybe."

"_Maybe? _He's already burned down half of Orbis!"

Indeed, Zakum had reduced the city proper to smoldering rubble, and his leaping flames could be seen in Orbis Park.

"This was such a beautiful place. And now it's gone."

The soaring arches of levitating stone had crumbled. The fair banners flapping in the wind were memories. The plant-life that had overgrown the older buildings was still burning, the old roots slowly dying. The bright sky was now turgid red.

"Don't worry."

"_Don't worry? _This place was built by the ancients! Its glory can never be restored!"

"Who do you think taught the ancients to build? Just relax."

"Sure," the cleric grumbled, "Relax. When I'm to blame?"

The Harlequin waved off the bitterness with one hand.

"It's okay. I do your time, I take the fall."

"Why? I'm the one who released him!" the cleric insisted. The Harlequin sighed.

"Yes, but _I _am guilty for us all. That's why I'm here."

"If you made everything, how does that make you guilty?"

"It doesn't, but _I am_, so that _you_ don't have to be."

"I don't understand."

"Nobody does, least of all _him."_

They confronted Zakum who, at the edge of cloud city with nowhere to go, adopted a battle stance, his one eye furious behind his axe.

"**I will not be cribbed and confined again!"**

"Sure you will. It's what gives you purpose in life," the Harlequin replied.

"**I am more powerful now than ever before, thanks to the foolish mortals of this world!"**

"I'm still the same," the Harlequin shrugged, and walked forward while the cleric retreated. Zakum drew back, lifted his axe and swung with all his might. So quick was the strike that the cleric did not see the result, but he _did _feel the ground shatter, and screamed as he fell. They had been standing on the extremity of the city, so the ground was thinner than at the centre, and had broken off under the sheer force of Zakum's blow. For a few seconds the cleric saw nothing but white and felt the cold vapour of the clouds, and then the clouds were above him. The sea, however, was now several thousand feet below. So high up were they, he could see Victoria Island in the distance. Zakum was a comet below, and the Harlequin was either destroyed or lost to sight.


	4. Judgment

Figuring that he would hit the water at several hundred kilometers an hour, the cleric strapped on his oxygen tank – a nifty item courtesy the kooky old scientist living in Orbis Tower's basement – and cast the Magic Guard shield. Slamming into the sea at that speed made him black out.

"Hey."

Someone was poking his shoulder. The shock of consciousness brought the cold pressure of water all around him. He flailed for a moment, remembering he had an air supply. The Harlequin was there, robes drifting in the current, but stood as though he were standing on dry ground.

"How do you do that?" the cleric wondered.

"How do you _talk underwater?_ You're not even wearing an oxygen mask, just that silly yellow thing on your back. And I'm fine, thanks for asking."

"Where did he go?"

"Zakum's gone into that cave. He's trying to get help from his pet flounder."

"_Pianus? _How are you going to deal with them both?"

"You distract the fish."

"_Me? _I'm not even a priest yet! I won't last ten seconds!"

"Oh, you'll be fine."

The Harlequin glided over the seabed, the cleric swimming after. They descended into the deep sea gorge, ignoring the lethal squids along the way. Lots of high-level albeit dead travelers littered the area, the telltale marks of incineration a sign of Zakum's passage. They went into the darkest cave hidden inside the deepest shadow, and soon the sun longer guided their path, but the bright flicker of their enemy. He swung the axe as they entered, forcing them to scramble/swim as a new fissure formed on the seabed.

"**Meet my pets."**

The cleric peered at the pair of glowing eyes in the corner, and it was joined by another pair.

"Don't tell me…"

There were _two _Doom Flounders staring at them.

"You're cheating," the Harlequin obviated, and waved at the cleric, "Right, you go ahead."

The cleric threw his hands up.

"Got any kibbles I can feed them? How about I carve myself up so they don't have to?"

Ignoring the mortal, the shadow and flame went at it, circling each other, the flame's axe cutting through water with no reduction in speed, the shadow darting around the lethal blows as though dancing. The cleric, without much else to do, hopped madly between ten-tonne weights that fell from the sky and over the twin laser beams from the twin flounders. He attempted using Magic Claw, but two giant MISS laughed at his efforts, and aggravated the evil aquatic beasts further. He got unlucky and one of those ten-tonne weights, moved by the giant mind of Pianus, pinned him to the ground. The fishes charged another laser beam…

"Big surprise! The cleric dies," the cleric grumbled, not bothering to look.

"HEY! Who's stealing our kills!?"

From the entrance of the cave a hail of arrows and throwing stars studded the flounders that misfired and knocked away part of the cave wall.

"The hell?" the cleric blurted, "Whoever that is, get this thing off me!"

Who should shove aside the enormous load, but the most powerful warrior in the world?

"You!"

"Yes, me," the warrior affirmed, twirling the legendary Fairfrozen spear, "And you're stealing my kills, noob."

"I didn't do any damage."

"Then what are you doing here?"

"Did you notice the giant fire elemental fighting the shadow over there?"

The warrior stared at Zakum and the Harlequin while the rest of his party filed into the cave and began giving hell to the Doom Flounders, all manner of blows, arrows, shurikens and magic laying down damage of astronomical proportions.

"Are they some kind of GM event?"

"No, the GMs have nothing to do with this! Why does everyone keep asking?"

"Anyway, out of the way, noob, I have some equips to collect."

Shoving aside the cleric with his little toe, the warrior called upon the power of dragons to assault Pianus with a barrage worthy of the gods. Relieved, the cleric just floated there and watched. Pianus and his twin were done for; that much was assured, but the shadow kept dancing around Zakum's great axe.

"**Stand still!"**

"I will if you will."

Zakum roared and cleared the seabed with another swing, using the momentum for a follow-up slash twice as fast as the previous one.

"Final Attack," the cleric muttered, and the Harlequin could not evade it. Instead, he held up one thin hand.

The axe stopped dead in the water.

"**WHAT?"**

"Remember the last time we danced, Zakum?"

The Harlequin clenched his fist, and the great axe shattered in his grip.

"It feels familiar, doesn't it?"

Zakum unleashed a tornado flamethrower that turned the walls to magma around the Harlequin, but the shadow walked unaffected through it, robes flapping in the blazing fury.

"Do you believe you are the end? The all-powerful? There are creatures in this world, Zakum, that merit fear above and beyond the vanity you would offer."

"**There are none above me!" **he shouted through the flames.

"Yes, there are. They are the messengers of death. They are the _prehistoric _beings that walked this world before silly things like jobs and quests existed. They are the ones who bred fear into humanity. You, Zakum? You're a product of humanity, nothing more."

The Harlequin continued walking forward while Zakum started to retreat.

"Your power is based on what humans understand power to be. Muscles? Agility? Intelligence? Luck? Do you think these mortal things matter to those fueled by the power predating _life itself?"_

"**What was there before life?"**

The Harlequin lifted one hand to his mask, and pulled it open just a crack. In that slim opening, in that tiny gap, Zakum beheld a dreadful sight that neither god nor mortal could witness and survive. The one word summing up the horror behind the mask passed those thin white lips.

"_Death."_

The Harlequin was merciful, and replaced his mask. Zakum, that titan, was on his knees. His one eye, that had so recently suffused fiery damnation, was now dim. The Harlequin beckoned to the cleric.

"I'm going to teach you something."

"Y-Yes?"

The cleric's movements and words were deliberate, cautious, and awestruck. What had Zakum seen?

"That magical claw thing you used? It's a bastardization of one of my runes."

The memory clicked into place.

"Surge."

"You've been reading your bedtime stories. Remember its form, its shape, and copy its exact dimensions. Make no mistake, it requires perfection."

Magic Claw slashes apart its target with _three _straight lines crisscrossing another three lines tapering at the ends. Surge, as the cleric remembered it, had _four _lines crisscrossing another four. They did not taper at the ends, but were of geometrical precision. His first try got the four lines crossing both ways. His second try failed due to _one _line tapering at the end. Then the cleric closed his eyes, and summoned that formidable intelligence he had been training with and improving all the years of his life. Muscles and agility had no place here. Razor focus, and a little bit of luck, would draw this rune.

He was, after all, only mortal. He then discovered the mortality of Zakum when the Surge rune emblazoned the titan's forehead in shining blue, each line the perfect length, thickness, and consistency.

"So you see, Zakum, even children possess a knowledge removed from your understanding."

Zakum threw back his marked head and bellowed. Anger. Frustration. Wounded pride. But most of all, pain.

"**I DESERVE MORE THAN THIS!"**

"Everyone dies."

"**I AM A GOD!"**

"You're mortal, and I'll prove it."

"**I WILL RISE AGAIN!"**

"Go back to your prison of stone and fire, and trouble these children no more with your vanity. I'll be seeing you tonight."

Six more arms of flame erupted from Zakum's torso. The rocks shaken loose from his anger clumped around his body, fashioning his tomb, his curse that would never leave him. Eight arms flailing, the fissure he had made with his axe swallowed him whole.

"He's back where he should be."

The Harlequin tugged at his gloves, looking askance at the cleric.

"You did well. Most mortals take a few thousand years to get _half _a rune right."

"Thanks," the cleric smiled, "Not every day you get to kill a boss by yourself."

"Did you get any experience? Items? Money?" the Harlequin enquired. The cleric pouted.

"No…"

"Then don't ascribe fame to yourself."

The warrior and his cronies were done picking Pianus' corpse clean of all loot. They sauntered over to the Harlequin and cleric.

"Hey, noobs," the warrior greeted them.

"Speaking of which," the Harlequin pointed a finger at the warrior, "It must be difficult being so pathetic that you cannot get by without help."

"Hey, I need my party for boss runs, _noob,"_ the warrior smirked, and his followers laughed.

"Oh, no. I mean cheating. Like Zakum cheated, beating the system. Using illegal methods to gain your power. Letting yourself be controlled by outside forces. Selling your soul, so to speak, for the sake of becoming stronger at a faster rate."

"I am the most powerful!"

"No."

Without warning, the Harlequin passed an index finger across the warrior's throat. Red bloomed, uninhibited. From the Harlequin's index finger there extended a long nail, a single droplet of blood misting off its tip.

"I'll… always… come… back…" the warrior gurgled, and died, hanging in the water. His party ran like hell.

"He's right, you know," the cleric sighed, "A month goes by, and he's back again, as ever."

"Oh, but I'm not a GM. I don't ban. Come on, we have someone to visit."


	5. Retribution

"Hello, Grendel."

The old man turned upside down in surprise.

"The Wingless!"

"Ah, I miss the old names."

The Harlequin had a seat in midair beside the old man who righted himself, clearing his throat.

"I saw your victory over Zakum, once more. It has been duly added to the history books."

"Aren't you tired?"

"Yes," Grendel sighed, "But I have a job to do."

"Meet your replacement."

The cleric took several seconds to process that the Harlequin was looking at _him._

"I'M NOT A PRIEST YET!" the cleric thundered for the umpteenth time.

"Doesn't matter. You can perform the Surge rune. I'd like to see anyone else do that. Eh, Grendel?"

"I still haven't gotten it quite right," the old magician muttered through his beard. The cleric slapped his forehead.

"Why me?"

"Why not?" the Wingless spread his hands.

"I have other things to do besides hand out magician jobs!"

"Like what?"

"Reading!"

"You can do that here."

"I hate you!"

"Everyone does. I'm the guilty one, remember? Oh, and before I forget."

The Harlequin raised his hand. The ancient runic circle that had held Grendel for many lifetimes was dispelled with the sound of breaking glass. Grendel fell to the floor, lay still for a moment, pushed off the ground, supported his wobbling footsteps on his wizard staff to the front door, and stepped outside. A beatific smile lit up that old face that had not felt sunlight for an age. The fairies of Ellinia gathered around him, keening surprise in their high-pitched voices, touching him with their tiny hands, calling him by name. He looked up, and the fairies supported him on their wings, bearing him up above the tallest treetops so that he could see the forest, the towns, the mountains and the sea spread out in a grand vista before his weeping eyes. Peace like a river extended his way.

"The world is so beautiful."

With that, he died.

888

At the west entrance of mushroom town, the comely lass bent over a dazed traveler.

"Hello, you must be the new traveler. Would you mind asking my brother what he wants for dinner?"

The traveler sat up, blinking.

"What am I doing in this noob place? Where's my equips? Where's Fairfrozen?"

He checked his inventory, and it was devoid of all items and money. With a dawning horror, he checked his statistics.

Level One, Beginner.

All the way on the other end of the island, Biggs the sailor heard a voice screaming, _"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!"_

888

"What will you do now?"

"Sleep," the Harlequin replied, as weeping fairies bore away the body of Grendel, "You have work to do."

The Harlequin walked off in a random direction. The cleric moved to follow, but felt a tug at his robes. He turned around, and a crowd of several hundred beginners were staring at him. Looking over them, he perceived, somehow, that they were of the eighth level rank, and had impressive, if yet budding, intellect.

"Excuse me mister… we're here for a job."

The cleric spread his palms open before them.

"I've never done this before. Harlequin…" he pleaded, and turned around.

The Wingless was gone. An emptiness settled on the cleric's heart.

"Hey, what's your name?" a beginner asked.

The cleric turned to face them again, and looking into their fresh faces, the emptiness didn't hurt as much.

"Manny. bishopmanny."

END


End file.
